


In sickness and health, from life through death.

by RussianSunflower3



Series: Sunflower's HanaIwa week [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cancer, First to last, Heavy Angst, I'm Sorry, M/M, Starts off Fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 10:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7753351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianSunflower3/pseuds/RussianSunflower3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love is about the little things, like holding hands and racing heartbeats and soft smiles.<br/>This is a part of Iwaizumi and Hanamaki's relationship.</p><p>True love is whispers in the dark, giggles and blushes, a best friend that has your heart in their hands.<br/>This is an <em>important</em> part of Iwaizumi and Hanamaki's relationship.</p><p>Unbreakable love is staying by someone's side, even when you don't know how long they'll be there.<br/>This is the crucial thing that Iwaizumi isn't sure Hanamaki will be able to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In sickness and health, from life through death.

**Author's Note:**

> If you only want the fluff and not the angst, I suggest stopping reading at "The next huge development happens in their third year."

The word ‘yes’ was very important to Iwaizumi and Hanamaki. It defined a lot of their relationship, and most certainly the pivotal moments. It was how they started in the first place. It was the last word they shared. Before the last, however, there was many instances of ‘yes’, starting from the first day of volleyball club.

Iwaizumi had once again let Oikawa drag him into something troublesome. The instance they had introduced themselves to their seniors, Oikawa had declared himself the superior setter, which in turn somehow developed into first years versus third years, seeing as the official Aobajosai setter was a third year.

“Iwa-chan!” Iwaizumi jumped from the ground, ready to slam down the ball when a three person block appeared right in front of him. His irritation surged at how their arms reached higher, their blocks were strong and sturdy, and there was no way he could tip it over the top since they shut him out with a kill block. His best bet was to aim diagonally, but he was already in the perfect position for a straight spike. With a grunt, he hit the ball weakly to bounce it back for another attempt. One of the guys on his side of the net, a tall and lanky individual with pinky-brown hair was caught off-guard, but still lunged to save it.

“Yes!” Ball up in the air, Iwaizumi had lost track of it. His eyes were still fixed on the boy sprawled on the floor at his feet. He was beautiful, in a way that differed from standard and stereotypes. There was a spark to his eyes, a cheeky grin on his lips, and dimples in his cheeks. Iwaizumi was captivated.

“Iwa-chan, look out!” The ball had crossed the net, and the third years were about to score a point, the ball aimed directly in Iwaizumi’s direction to exploit the weakness of his distraction. His eyes widened as a flash of blue and yellow impacted him in a blur, knocking him off balance as his chin jerked backwards. He stumbled backwards and his heel caught on the bar of the net stands, sending him flat on his back just out of court lines.

“Time!” The coach called the competitive match to a halt as the team – and prospective team – crowded around Iwaizumi who was staring up at the ceiling with a mask of irritation, and a large red patch on the lower half of his face where the ball had impacted. His nose was tingling too, and he was pretty sure blood would trickle out as soon as he sat up. A light and airy chuckle filled with amusement sounded to his right and Iwaizumi tilted his head to see the pinkette laughing before he offered an outstretched hand.

“You okay there, man?” After a moment of hesitation – his nose started to bleed – Iwaizumi took the offered hand and allowed the subject of his attention to gently pull him up, one of the third years looping an arm around his back to support him from behind.

“Yes. Yeah, I- I’m fine.” 

“Here, Hanamaki, pass him a tissue.” The boy took an offered tissue from the curly haired first year behind him, holding it out for Iwaizumi. In somewhat of a daze, he took the tissue and held it to his nose. He was pretty sure his cheeks were reddening because _Hanamaki_ \- What a beautiful name!

“Iwa-chan, are you okay?!” Oikawa frantically pushed his way through to come face to face with Iwaizumi who scowled and raised his foot to gently push Oikawa back in the centre of his chest.

“Why didn’t you warn me earlier, dumbass?!”

“Geh! You should have seen it yourself! It’s not exactly hard to see something bright blue and yellow and the size of your head!” Bickering on, the third years sigh in exasperation and slowly peel away back to their positions on the court, whist the rest of the first years look a little lost at how _rude_ Oikawa and Iwaizumi appear to be towards each other, despite being introduced as best friends. The only two who don’t seem so perplexed are Hanamaki and the curly haired boy.

“Alright, first years, that’s enough! Get back into position for the set. Iwaizumi, I want you on the sidelines until that nosebleed stops, Yuda, take his place on court.”

“Yes, sir.” Iwaizumi knows Yuda from Kitagawa and gives him a nod of encouragement, considering how nervous and mousey he looks. Hanamaki seems to notice and looks between the two as he helps a dazed Iwaizumi to his feet.

“You sure know a lot of people.”

“Not really. Yuda, Oikawa and I are from the same middle school. You know anyone here?”

“Yes! Me ‘n’ Matsukawa are from the same _elementary_ school. He’s the one in the dark red shirt.” Iwaizumi picks him out easily, the curly haired boy who had known Hanamaki’s name and passed over a tissue.

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah, we’ve been friends a long time. Anyways, how you feeling? You okay?” Iwaizumi sits on the bench near the coach, noticing the faint concern on Hanamaki’s face.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Uh, you?” He’s about to beat himself up for stupidly blurting out the question. It’s similar to saying ‘you too!’ to a cashier as he leaves, or a waiter who tells him to enjoy the food. It kind of makes him want to melt into the ground and disappear, until he hears Hanamaki laugh and feels him pat his shoulder, which makes him want to melt for entirely different reasons.

“I’m _great_. You’re pretty funny, Iwa-chan. That is your name, isn’t it?”

“Actually it’s Iwaizumi. B-But I don’t mind.” Hanamaki snorts with no elegance whatsoever, but it’s still cute. 

“Alright, Iwaizumi. Chill out here and cheer for us, ‘kay?” Hanamaki jogs back to the court and Iwaizumi buries his face in his hands with his ears glowing bright pink.

_“I’m so fucking gay.”_

Iwaizumi later realised that ‘yes’ was the first thing he had ever said to Hanamaki, and the first thing he’d really registered Hanamaki saying. It wasn’t the most romantic or cliché thing, but it had somehow captured Iwaizumi in a way that he started crushing **hard**. Luckily for him, Hanamaki and Matsukawa glued themselves to Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s sides, turning their best friend duo into a group that were as close as bonded molecules. 

The crush always lingered in the background, and Iwaizumi found himself confiding Matsukawa with it, since he was pretty sure Oikawa would tease him for _life_ if he found out. It was after one of their afternoon practices, halfway through their first year. Iwaizumi had changed out of his uniform quickly, and lingered around outside where he knew Matsukawa would come and wait for Hanamaki. Sure enough, the door opened a minute later and Iwaizumi reached out and grabbed Matsukawa’s wrist with a sweaty hand.

“I- I need to talk to you!” Matsukawa raised a bushy eyebrow, but silently led Iwaizumi to a quieter corridor, sensing it was something urgent. He could see it in the way Iwaizumi fiddled with the strap of his bag and constantly darted his gaze around, checking no one was nearby. In an empty hallway, Matsukawa slouched against the wall whilst Iwaizumi hovered around the centre of the corridor, his feet constantly tapping or shifting weight from one leg to the other.

“What’s up?”

“I like Hanamaki!” He blurted it out, covering his hands with his mouth abruptly afterwards. Matsukawa’s eyes widened, and he noticed the lingering hesitation and fear in Iwaizumi’s stance. He’d never even told them he liked boys, so there was no doubt he was _terrified_ that he could have just lost a close friend. Exhaling slowly, Matsukawa took a second to process the situation.

“You like him? Like, more than a friend?” Iwaizumi’s hands slowly and shakily lowered to the strap of his bag again, bunching it up and letting it go. He nodded, body angled in the direction he could run if there was backlash, although he had no idea what would happen after that.

“He likes Disney, yellow flowers, and his dream date is on a beach. Use that information how you like, but whatever you do, don’t hurt him. I know you’re not a jerk who’d lead him on and then ditch him, but if you break his heart, I won’t be so kind.” Iwaizumi jerked his head up to Matsukawa, who was still casually leaning against the wall.

“You don’t- You don’t mind that I’m...?”

“Gay? No, I don’t mind. You’re my friend, Iwaizumi. Who you like doesn’t change that fact. If anyone gives you trouble for it, you come to me or someone else who accepts you, okay? We’ll always be here for you.” At that point, Iwaizumi burst into choked sobs of happiness and as he wiped relentlessly at his face with his sleeves, Matsukawa slung an arm around him and pulled him into a gentle and supportive hug.

“It’s okay... You’re okay... Did you really think I’d be shallow enough to hate you for not having the same sexuality?”

“I- I was a little scared. Don’t- Don’t tell anyone else. Please.”

“I won’t. It’s your choice who you come out to, so I’ll respect who you find safe enough to tell.” Matsukawa holds him a tad tighter in the one armed hug, and with a great relief, Iwaizumi releases all the pent up fear and anxiety as tears. Above his sniffles and Matsukawa’s quiet shushing, he hears voices coming from around the corner – Oikawa and Hanamaki, who are very confused where their friends disappeared to. As they round the corner, both go still in shock before dropping their bags and coming over to join the hug, one on each side.

“Wh- What’s going on? Iwaizumi, are you okay?” He pulls away from Matsukawa’s chest, rubbing at his eyes before looking up at Hanamaki with a small smile.

“Y- Yes. I’m okay.” Hanamaki breathes out with relief and gives him a mighty squeeze.

“I’m glad you’re okay. Geez, you had us so worried for a minute!” 

“I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

“Yes, of course! But don’t you dare disappear like that again, or I’ll... I’ll...” Hanamaki stops to think, prompting Matsukawa to snicker and Oikawa to laugh openly.

“You’ll what, Makki~?”

“I’ll fart on everything you own.” The other three make mock sounds of disgust as Hanamaki grins, proud of himself for the answer, and Iwaizumi trails off from fake gagging to look up at him with a soft smile. He’s so smitten, it’s hard to believe. 

Iwaizumi spends the next few days metaphorically flailing around and coming up with excuses to avoid direct confrontation when they aren’t in a group of four. The main reason for this is because he’s _planning_

“Yellow flowers, beach, Disney... Yellow flowers, beach, Disney...” He paces his room in a circle trying to ease his nerves. He text Hanamaki about six minutes ago, asking him if they can meet up at the pier, and that it’s really important and it has to be just him. 

“Yellow flowers, beach, Disney... Yellow flowers, beach, Disney... Yell- PHONE!” He screeches and lunges for his phone as it blips with a message, throwing himself onto his bed from across the room. He holds the phone to his forehead to calm his shaky breath before opening the message.

_Hanamaki  
Sure, I can get there in 10 mins. You better not wear sandals with socks._

It’s just like Hanamaki to say something like that, and Iwaizumi guiltily slides his gaze to his feet – which do indeed have socks on them, and his sandals wait by the front door. He decides that he’d rather change his footwear than get sand between his toes, so heads downstairs quickly. After rummaging about in the shoe cupboard, he finds a pair to wear, and dashes back to the kitchen. 

He pulls a bouquet of sunflowers out of the sink, wrapping damp paper towels around their stems before tucking them into a bag. He brought them last night, and he’s relieved to see that they’re still in perfect condition after 16 hours in the family sink. Iwaizumi checks he has keys, phone, and the sunflowers before slipping his feet into his shoes and jogging to the pier. Hanamaki will definitely get there first, but Iwaizumi hopes the flowers – and the planned outing - will make up for it.

“H-Hanamaki!” He sees Hanamaki first, leaning against the side of a noodle van and scrolling through his phone. Hanamaki lifts his head and raises a hand in greeting, eyes closed as he replies.

“Yo~.” Dark brown eyes open to see sunflowers thrust into his face, centimetres away from his nose. He blinks and leans to peer around them, where Iwaizumi is holding them out with a heavy blush and shyly biting his bottom lip whilst averting his gaze.

“You- You like yellow flowers, right?” Gently, Hanamaki takes the bouquet from Iwaizumi, holding it close to his chest and pressing his face into them with a soft smile and deeply breathes in their scent. His eyes are half-lidded and tender as he strokes a finger over the tips of the silky petals. They’re in good condition, picked from the finest florists, he reckons.

“Yes, I love them~...” The yellow of the petals reflects off his face in the setting sun and he looks gorgeous. It’s almost too much for Iwaizumi’s gay little heart to take, pounding hard in his chest. 

“C-Come on. I want to show you something.” He tugs on Hanamaki’s wrist, and tilting his head with confusion, Hanamaki follows. They get onto the sandy beach and he flushes, turning almost as pink as the tips of Iwaizumi’s ears. A bunch of yellow flowers and a walk along the beach is something he’s always dreamed of doing, a romantic outing with someone dear to him, but he could never envision a person. Looking at the grip Iwaizumi has on his wrist, he realises that, yes, this is what was missing all along. He pulls his wrist out of Iwaizumi’s grip, and when the shorter looks at him with a pang of confusion, hurt, and hesitation, Hanamaki grins and slips their hands together. That’s... When he notices something else.

“Iwaizumi Hajime, do you dare to tell me you wore socks and _crocs_ for our first date?”

“... Yes?” He looks so perplexed and innocent, Hanamaki can’t help but bark out a laugh and forgive him. They can work on Iwaizumi’s fashion flaws later, but for now, he wanted to enjoy their beach walk together, warmed by the setting sun and each other’s hands.

“Wait! You knew this was a date?!”

“Well, yeah? It’s not every day that someone gives me a bunch of flowers and takes me for a walk along a beach at sunset. I figured it out as soon as you pulled me onto the sand.” Iwaizumi grumbles under his breath and Hanamaki squeezes his hand reassuringly. 

“Hey. I think it’s amazing.”

“I hoped you would, but... But I was going to ask you out at the _end_ of this.”

“This?” Iwaizumi sweeps aside some palm leaves to reveal a small clearing on the very edge of the beach, a blanket lain down for two people, two soft and fluffy pillows, and bowls of food with clingfilm over the top. He had help setting this up, requesting that Oikawa and Matsukawa guard it until he asked Hanamaki to meet him at the pier. In the middle of the blanket, there’s a screen with a USB cord attached. Iwaizumi used a couple of sticks to hold the palm leaves back so there’s a view of the waves and the lowering sun, then sits on one side of the blanket. He pats the side next to him, looking up at Hanamaki with a boyish grin.

Hanamaki swallows down a lump of emotion, moving in to sit next to Iwaizumi in the makeshift nest. It’s comfy and soft, a material that his sensitive skin can tolerate and he’s _sure_ Iwaizumi made sure to check with Matsukawa, who is the only person other than his family that knows of his issues and tendency to rash. He turns his attention to the food, picking out tofu cubes, tamago slices, gummy sweets, and profiteroles. Those are the few that he takes interest of, moving them closer to his reach whilst Iwaizumi inserts the USB into his phone.

“What’s that for?”

“You’ll see.” He angles his phone so that Hanamaki can’t see the screen as he scrolls through and selects something, and then the large screen – about the size of an ipad – lights up with _“The Aristocats.”_ Hanamaki squeals and leans forwards to snatch the screen up and hold it right up to his face.

“Iwaizumi, I _love_ this movie!”

“I’m glad~... I knew you liked Disney, so it was just a guess from there.” He takes the screen back to prop up against a rock, angled perfectly so they can see it from lying down next to each other with their pillows pressed next to each other. They watch in partial silence, only making noise when they laugh at the funny moments, or when Hanamaki sings along to the songs under his breath. It’s halfway through when Iwaizumi’s head drops down to Hanamaki’s shoulder, and Hanamaki smiles softly as he worms his arm around Iwaizumi, pulling him in closer to share their warmth as the sky turns dark and cold, the night air rustling the leaves around them and the stars in the sky serving as a backdrop for the movie. 

“Y’know... This is my second favourite movie.” Hanamaki whispers, just above the volume of the Aristocats.

“Hmm?” Iwaizumi’s soft humm is doused with an adorable sleepiness, yet it still rumbles softly, like a distant thunder.

“You guess really good. It’s my second favourite.”

“What’s your first favourite?”

“Promise not to laugh?”

“Yes. I promise.”

“... Tinkerbell and the legend of the Neverbeast.” Iwaizumi sits up a little, looking at Hanamaki’s face until he realises he’s being utterly serious. He lays his head back on Hanamaki’s shoulder and snuggles in a little closer. He closes his eyes, breathing in Hanamaki’s scent and relaxing.

“S’cool. You kinda remind me of Fawn.”

“Yeah... Wait, what?!” Hanamaki doesn’t get his reply, Iwaizumi drifted off on his shoulder with a playful smirk on his lips. He looks so relaxed and placid and _soft_. Gently, Hanamaki presses his lips to Iwaizumi’s forehead, tugs the edges of the blankets over them, and pulls the screen closer to watch the rest of the movie. Iwaizumi never ends up asking Hanamaki to be his boyfriend, because as soon as he wakes up, Hanamaki steals another kiss and murmurs _“Yes.”_ Just like that, they’re dating.

It works. The two of them together just _works_. The few disagreements they have are sorted by sitting down and talking it out, or in less serious cases, challenging each other to little contests where the winner of the challenge is also the winner of their argument. There are many more ‘yes’s in their time together, none quite as significant as the first year. 

The next huge development happens in their third year, just after they’ve lost to Karasuno. The team finish changing, with the exception of Oikawa who has gone to supervise packing up the bus, and filter out the changing room slowly. All the team, that is, except Iwaizumi. He’s not in a good place, wrapped up in the darkness of his own mind as he hunches over on the bench, head in his lap and arms over his head as if to shelter himself. He picked up enough to get change, after the other third years had whacked him on the back in reassurance, but now, he’s starting to pitch downwards again.

Matsukawa waits in the doorway of the changing room as Hanamaki slowly kneels in front of Iwaizumi, placing a gentle hand on one of his knees, and rubbing his other hand up and down Iwaizumi’s arm. His voice is quiet when he speaks, like he’s addressing a frightened animal instead of his boyfriend.

“I’m gonna take our bags out to the bus. Just take a few minutes, Iwaizumi. I’ll come back shortly, okay?” Iwaizumi takes a deep shuddering breath, uncurling from the ball just enough to wipe at his eyes and push Hanamaki’s hand off him with no real conviction.

“Iwaizumi...?”

“Just go...” His voice breaks with a whimper and Hanamaki understands. Iwaizumi doesn’t want to be seen falling apart. Understandingly, he places a quick but loving kiss to Iwaizumi’s forehead and stands up, his fingertips lingering on Iwaizumi’s shoulder before he draws them away, picking up Iwaizumi’s bag alongside his own and carrying them out the room. Matsukawa shuts the door behind him, and Hanamaki exhales, thick with concern.

“Everything okay with you two?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. He just needs to be alone for a moment.” Hanamaki flinches as a heartbreaking cry leaks through the closed door, and Matsukawa bites the corner of his bottom lip with a spark of worry. He looks between Hanamaki and the door before coming to a solution.

“Yeah, no. You can’t leave him like that. Give me the bags, I’ll take them. You stay here and go in when you’re ready.” Hanamaki’s eyes water with thankfulness and he sheds the bag straps off his shoulders, pulling Matsukawa into a tight hug.

“Thank you so much. You’re the most amazing friend ever.” Matsukawa chuckles and hugs back, patting Hanamaki’s back comfortingly.

“Don’t need to tell me something I already know~. Now get in there and have a cry-fest.” Hanamaki dashes back into the room, the door slamming behind him once more. Matsukawa huffs, assured that everything is going to be okay. He’s picking up the last bag when he hears Hanamaki shouting his name loud enough to be heard through the closed door. He pushes the door open with very little thought, not thinking of what to expect.

“What is- Oh holy shit!” Iwaizumi is hunched over in Hanamaki’s arms, presumably unconscious, and blood drips from his face to Hanamaki’s leg which trickles to join a puddle on the floor that looks like a mix of bile and blood together. Hanamaki looks up at Matsukawa from the floor, eyes wide with a mixture of fright and horror. It’s a haunting expression that Matsukawa knows will linger in his nightmares. Pale with terror, Hanamaki manages to stammer out some weak words.

“G-Go get coach. Or a me-medic.” Matsukawa throws the bags to the floor and runs out the room calling for Irihata and Mizoguchi. Alone once more, Hanamaki rubs Iwaizumi’s back and tries to ease him onto the floor entirely, instead of in his lap. It would be easier if he wasn’t limp, or if all of Hanamaki’s first aid training hadn’t flown out his head as soon as he saw Iwaizumi slumping to the ground, spewing blood from his nose. It’s serious, Hanamaki knows that much. It has to be, for this much blood.

“Makki?” Oikawa appears in the doorway, directed this way by a frantic Matsukawa, and takes in the situation with a quick glance. He shrugs off his jacket and comes over to Hanamaki’s side, pressing his jacket against Iwaizumi’s face and helping Hanamaki to lie him on his side, head tilted at an angle so his airways weren’t clogged up by the blood flow. He presses his fingers to the side of Iwaizumi’s neck, checking his pulse and counting each one until he peels his eyes open and exhales slowly.

“He’ll be okay. Stay with him, keep him warm, I’ll get some water for when he wakes up.” Hanamaki looks back at Iwaizumi’s unconscious body, drawn to the stressed and pained look on his face.

“How- How did you know what to do...?” Oikawa pauses from uncapping a bottle next to wear Iwaizumi was originally was on the bench.

“Because he told me? Well, technically his dad taught me, but Iwa-chan taught me about what to do when he wakes up again.”

“Wait... What?” Hanamaki looks genuinely confused and a little overwhelmed, and Oikawa’s expression jolts into a sympathetic surprise as he drops the bottle.

“He hasn’t told you... No, no, no, I told him to tell you! Iwa-chan, you-! You idiot! Argh!” He tugs at his hair with stress and frustration before he picks up on Hanamaki’s quickening breath and increasing fear. Oikawa stops, placing a hand on Hanamaki’s shoulder.

“I- I don’t want to be the one to tell you this... I wish he’d told you himself, but... Iwa-ch-... Hajime is really ill, Makki. Really, _really_ ill.” Hanamaki swallows down a lump in his throat at the serious and pained look in Oikawa’s eyes, void of their usual life.

“What do you mean by r-really ill? **_How_** ill?” Oikawa looks away, pressing his palm over his mouth as he gather himself, eyes watering because he doesn’t like to think about it, about his best friend and the sickness that follows him like a curse.

“T-Terminally.” Like a bullet impacting glass, something within Hanamaki shatters. He freezes, and he suddenly feels as cold as ice, except an uncomfortable heat in his throat, like acid worming its way the most painful route. He’s still as a statue, if not for the butterflies in his stomach that he could compare to a thorny rose curling around and shredding up the insides. His head pounds heavily, and blood roars in his ears, until it becomes hyper-hearing, his own breath and unsteady heartbeat echoing against white noise.

“Ter-... Terminal...Ly...?”

“I’m so sorry, Makki... I thought he’d told you...” Hanamaki feels wetness dripping down his cheeks. Oikawa reaches out and gently brushes the tears away with his thumbs, but this only unleashes a new stream of saltwater as the damn breaks and Hanamaki buries his face in his hands, wailing into them.

“H-Hana...” The weak and strained voice breaks through his haze, and Hanamaki peels his hands away to peer at Iwaizumi, looking up at him with one partially opened eye, and dried blood coating his lower face. Oikawa turns over the jacket he donated as a blood rag, pouring a bit of water on it and using the damp material to scrub the blood and bile from Iwaizumi’s face. He’s a little rougher than the situation calls for, but Oikawa is _fuming_. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell him. I told you to tell him. You call me an idiot, but who’s the one lying a pool of their own blood, huh? Stupid Iwaizumi. You’re a _fool_. You should have told him long before now!” Iwaizumi grunts at the rough treatment, but there’s little he can do than pathetically try to push Oikawa’s hand away, not strong enough to even fight a kitten for the moment. It’s too much. Seeing Iwaizumi like this – so... So defeated – completely crosses the line for Hanamaki. He pushes himself up from the floor with a sob and speed walks out the changing room, ignoring the croak of his name behind him and dodging the coaches as they come running in.

Matsukawa, following behind the coaches, instantly notices his friend running in the opposite direction in _shambles_ and spins on his heel to give chase, staying far enough away that Hanamaki doesn’t notice and burst into a full run, because then Matsukawa would never be able to catch him. The spiker heads into an empty stairwell, throwing himself against the wall and punching it incessantly as he slides to his knees on the floor, burying his head in his arms and shaking with hiccups and strong sobs.

“Hey...” Hanamaki looks up at Matsukawa with an ugly expression of... Well... Matsukawa can’t think of anything other than _grief_. The worst possible scenario enters his head and for a moment, he thinks Iwaizumi is actually dead. Then, he realises that couldn’t possibly be true. If that were the case, Hanamaki would still be in the changing room, holding him close as he grew cold. Therefore, Matsukawa jumps to a conclusion, one that he considers the second-worst case scenario. 

“... That _bastard_ hurt you.” There’s a promise of murder in his eyes and it’s like a fire burns up inside him. He’s ready for war. But fire is easily doused by water, and as Hanamaki reaches out and grabs Matsukawa’s sleeve with a wet and sad shake of his head, the anger dissipates into immediate concern for his best friend. He drops in front of Hanamaki, pulling him into a tight and reassuring hug, even though his isn’t entirely filled in on the situation. There’s nothing he can say, but actions speak louder than words, and his safe, steady hold is the perfect place for Hanamaki to cry it out. He calms after a good twenty minute session.

“S-Sorry, I just-...”

“Shh... It’s okay... Wanna talk about it?” Hanamaki pauses for a long time before he slowly nods. Matsukawa shifts his hug so that Hanamaki is pressed against his side, both of them leaning against the wall.

“Iwaizumi is-... He’s going to die...” As soon as these words are whimpered out, Matsukawa sits up straighter, jaw dangling with disbelief.

“What...? What do you mean he’s going to die? Like- Like right now?”

“I don’t know... He- Oikawa says he’s _terminally_ ill...” Matsukawa slumps back against the wall, his free hand coming up to stressfully clasp his jaw and squeeze his cheeks as he tries to accept the information.

“That-... Shit... I mean, _shit_...” At the very least, his reaction gets a bitterly amused huff from Hanamaki.

“Yeah, shit. Wh- Why him, Mattsun...? We- We were so happy, and now he- He’s dying...” With a deep, shuddering exhale, Matsukawa tugs out of the hug and stands up, before offering a hand to Hanamaki.

“C’mon... If that’s the truth, then every single second we spend here is another second away from Iwaizumi. You love him, Hanamaki. I’m not going to let you regret the time you could have spent with him when the future comes... We’re going back in there, getting the full facts, and then you’re going to hug it out, okay?” Sniffling, Hanamaki takes the offered hand and allows Matsukawa to pull him to his feet. As he wipes his red eyes, he notices the damp patch on Matsukawa’s shoulder.

“Okay... And, M’sorry for crying on you...” 

“Hm? Oh, no problem. You’re my best friend, you can cry on me anytime.” He holds Hanamaki’s hand, tight and supportive as they head back through the hallways slowly. There are more people around, since all the matches have finished for the day, and Hanamaki keeps his head low to avoid making eye-contact with anyone they’ve played beforehand – whether they won or lost. The people around him who figure out he’s crying might mistake it for lamenting Aobajosai’s loss. Admittedly, he’d prefer that than anyone asking the reason _why_ he’s walking in shambles with his best friend holding his hand.

“We’re here... Want me to check on things first?” Hanamaki looks up from his feet, noting that they’re back to where they started, standing outside the changing room door, which is ajar. Hanamaki can hear quiet voices murmuring inside, but his ears still feel submerged underwater and it’s hard to identify the voices or understand what they’re saying from that far away. He gives Matsukawa a pitifully pleading pout, and he nods in response, gently letting go of Hanamaki’s hand to move over to the door and knock on it.

“Hey coach, Oikawa... It’s me. Can I come in?” The door opens and Hanamaki’s heart rate increases as he sees Matsukawa’s face ashen. Then, he gulps, and looks over at Hanamaki.

“There’s a lot of blood... But he’s okay.” That’s all the confirmation Hanamaki needs to push his way inside and over to Iwaizumi, bowling Mizoguchi out the way as he throws his arms around Iwaizumi and holds him close, not caring about the partially-dried and sticky blood down Iwaizumi’s front now transferred onto his own uniform.

“I- I thought I’d lost you...” Slowly, Iwaizumi’s arms come up to wrap around Hanamaki, weakened from the blood loss but strong enough that he has control over his limbs. He squeezes back with tenderness.

“I’m sorry... Oikawa’s right... I should have told you earlier... I should have told you as _soon_ as we became friends.”

“No, no... It’s okay, I understand. You were scared, right?” He feels Iwaizumi nod against his collarbone, and gently raises a hand to pet Iwaizumi’s hair. Even if it is disgusting from sweat and grease, Hanamaki doesn’t mind. He repeats the gesture until he feels Iwaizumi relax under the touch and his breathing smoothes out. Oikawa watches with a fond smile, placing a supportive hand on Hanamaki’s shoulder before withdrawing it to help coach Mizoguchi clear up the bloodstain on the floor. 

“Hey, Hanamaki?”

“Yeah?” He doesn’t tear his eyes away from Iwaizumi even as he answers Oikawa.

“If you’d known from the very beginning, would-... Would you still have dated him?” He looks up with a deadly serious expression, solid and promising. Iwaizumi isn’t awake, so he won’t hear it; but Hanamaki delivers the most important word of their relationship with a conviction that leaves no room for doubt.

“Yes. Yes, I would have.”

Iwaizumi recovers from the lapse in health, seemingly back to normal, but Hanamaki starts to notice little things that have been happening all this time, that he never knew indicated a more serious problem. 

There were times where he acted as if he were sleepy, drawling his speech or letting his limbs droop. He occasionally snuck away for minor nosebleeds, and when he did, he always had Oikawa pulled up in his contacts in case it turned into a haemorrhage or seizure. He’d wince at high volumes and ask for quiet, which Hanamaki learned was linked to persistent headaches that grew severe rapidly. He was always more considerate nowadays when Iwaizumi asked for a little peace.

He took frequent water breaks throughout the day, trying to push aside nausea and prevent vomiting. He sat in the front row during class – despite being alphabetically placed near the back – because his vision often blurred or he got little black spots that could block the whole board if he was too far back.

As the year went on, Iwaizumi started to stumble a lot. He was unsteady on his feet at times and had difficulty walking, especially after sitting down for long periods of time. Currently, he didn’t have any facial weakness and hadn’t had bouts of double vision _yet_ , but he warned Hanamaki that it would start happening as he got worse, along with difficulty speaking and swallowing. 

It was just after graduation day, when the four alumni were relaxing round Oikawa’s, that Matsukawa pointed out a very valid fact.

“You know... You’ve never told us what you actually _have_. Just the symptoms that come with it.” For a long heartbeat, Iwaizumi is quiet.

“Oh. Oh, yeah. I haven’t, have I?”

“I know~!” Oikawa is just close enough for Iwaizumi to swat at, his knuckles smacking against Oikawa’s lower calf as he walks past.

Of course _you_ know, dumbass. You were there.” Hanamaki wriggles to sit upright with a little more interest.

“There?”

“Yeah. Back when we were... What, 13?”

“12, Iwa-chan. 16th September. At the barbeque my mum was hosting.” Iwaizumi nods in something akin to a thanks and sips from his glass of lemonade casually.

“That was the first time I had a full body seizure. Nosebleed too. There was blood everywhere. I don’t remember much after that, except for the hospital room.” He breathes out, long and steady, composing himself even as his hands shake. He forces himself to look directly at Hanamaki and Matsukawa, despite the unease and dampness in his eyes.

“I was told I have a malignant tumour on my brain stem. Because I was too young to decide to take treatment by myself, it was left up to my mum.” He looks away, dropping his head and shaking it solemnly. Oikawa reaches over and rubs his back sympathetically. He senses that Iwaizumi can’t continue, and as Hanamaki shuffles in closer to pull Iwaizumi into his lap, the setter speaks for him.

“Iwa-Chan’s mum wavered the right for treatment. She- She was swept up by the Christian craze and said that only prayer would save her son. Now, it’s too late to do anything.” He spat the last words bitterly, his hand pausing on Iwaizumi’s shoulder and squeezing. Iwaizumi fought back a sniffle, instead biting his bottom lip and swallowing it down as he buried his face against Hanamaki’s chest, greatly appreciating the small kisses pressed to his forehead and cheeks.

“Iwaizumi?” He twists to look up at Hanamaki, their noses brushing at this angle. It’s comforting, and at any other time, he would have smiled and pressed his lips to the tip of Hanamaki’s nose, but right now there are other more important things to discuss.

“Mhm?”

“How long D’you think you’ve got left...?” With a soft shrug, he nestles back into his boyfriend.

“Couple of years.”

“A _couple_?” Matsukawa sounds like he’s been struck by lightning, his voice barely audible and breathy. Hanamaki doesn’t speak, but he holds Iwaizumi closer anyways.

“Yes. A couple.”

“We were told he had maximum 10 years if his mum refused the treatment... And well, that was when we were 12.” Hanamaki can feel himself shaking. He can feel Iwaizumi shaking. Both of them are on edge of crying and he catches Matsukawa wiping a sleeve over his eyes in the background. Iwaizumi pulls back from Hanamaki to look at him on personal level, addressing him and only him.

“I’m going to decline rapidly, maybe in the next few months. So if you want to break up, I-”

“No! No, I don’t want to break up with you! I love you, Iwaizumi... I’m not going to leave you because you have a _tumour_. I’ll be here for you, through everything.” Iwaizumi pulls him into a deep and loving kiss, grateful for everything and pouring his love for Hanamaki into the single gesture. Oikawa makes an ‘Aww~’ besides them and Matsukawa fakes a gag, but it’s thick with emotion because _Iwaizumi is going to **die**._

For all that, they’re best friends – all four of them – and they’re not going to abandon one of their “Barbershop Quartet”, as Hanamaki called it, just because that friend is going through troublesome times. Sure, it’s going to hurt. It’s going to be excruciatingly painful, watching him slowly wither, but they’ll stay by Iwaizumi’s side until his last breath. Hanamaki promises him this, as the other two set up the living room for a sleepover and Hanamaki and Iwaizumi watch the stars together.

“What if it happens in college hours?”

“I’ll be there.”

“What if you’re on a trip?”

“I’ll get a taxi or plane or wormhole back.”

“What if-?” 

“ _Iwaizumi_.” Sighing, Iwaizumi fixates on the brightest star in the sky, hoping it would fall so he could make a wish into a miracle. So he could live a bit longer. He fell in love with Hanamaki and wanted to spend the rest of his life with him, but not like this. Hanamaki interlocks their fingers where they rest on the decking.

“I promise. I’ll be right by your side no matter the time or place.”

“Sunrise?”

“Yes.”

“Midnight?”

“Yes.”

“... You really will, won’t you?” Hanamaki laughs softly and nuzzles into Iwaizumi’s cheek.

“You can’t get rid of me~. I love you, Hajime.” Iwaizumi’s lips grow into a smile and he steals a quick kiss.

“I love you too, Takahiro.”

When Hanamaki goes off to college, it’s a bittersweet farewell. He’s getting into the training course to become a paramedic, something he’s always dreamed of, but Iwaizumi will never complete his ambitions of being a physical therapist. A week before he was supposed to move into the college dorms, he had a massive attack and ended up paralysed on his left side from the neck down. The after-effects of the attack seem to have kick-started the rest of symptoms into a rapid decline on his health.

He needs help to eat because he can’t swallow. He has to write what he wants to say in shaky kanji if someone can’t understand him, thanks to episodes where his speech drops entirely. Worst of all, he suffers from seizures much more frequently now. They span from full body seizures to twitches in one limb, and Iwaizumi has warned Hanamaki that he feels like there isn’t long left. 

_“A couple of years might be pushing it.”_ ; he’d said, when Hanamaki had helped pick him up from the hospital once. It had been heartbreaking to hear him admit it, and even worse to hear the doctor confirm his lifespan was down to months, but Iwaizumi had held strong. He didn’t cry. He smiled sadly, thanked the doctor for his time, and comforted Hanamaki through the night as he cried over how unfair it was. But Iwaizumi did not. Sadly, in the back of his mind, he registers that he has somehow accepted it.

“This isn’t goodbye, just... See you later.” Hanamaki has a suitcase in hand, about to hop into his dad’s car and go off to college. His other bags are stuffed into the boot to the point where Matsukawa had to sit on the hood to make it close. Iwaizumi chuckles and reaches up from his wheelchair, palm flat against Hanamaki’s cheek as he draws him in for a kiss. 

“You’re going to do great, Taka~. I believe in you.” Hanamaki’s rosy cheeks flush a little darker, grin spreading from ear to ear as he keeps his forehead pressed against Iwaizumi’s in affection, lingering for as long as he can because he doesn’t want to leave his boyfriend to face this alone.

“I’ll try my best. Wait for me, okay, Haji?” Iwaizumi humms in agreement, stealing another brief kiss as a camera shutter clicks. They part with surprise to see Oikawa cheekily holding up a DSLR pointed in their direction, and he strikes a peace symbol. Iwaizumi warmly laughs, promptly Hanamaki to burst out too, followed by Matsukawa’s soft rumbling chuckle as the cheer catches on. The parents are having their own chat further off, but they appear to be in high spirits too.

Iwaizumi’s mother is absent. The reason for that is because she failed to bring Iwaizumi to the hospital when he had his massive attack, instead praying over his spasming, bleeding body as he choked out cries for her to help. It was only a stroke of luck that his dad had been visiting that weekend, as was part of the divorce agreement from years ago. Iwaizumi had been put into his father’s custody, a great relief to all his friends and their families, whom were particularly close with each other.

“Yes, I’ll wait. But there’s only so much that a strong will can do.”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way, Iwa-chan!” Iwaizumi scoffs and flippantly shows Oikawa the middle finger of his functioning hand. Matsukawa chortles and Hanamaki sniggers as he snaps a photo on his phone, as revenge for the kissing photo. (He won’t say it out loud, but he’s thankful. Every picture with Iwaizumi is a precious memory saved for the lonely days ahead.) 

“In that case, I _will_ find a way to hurt you when you’re being annoying.”

“You could always run him over with your chair, sugar pea.”

“Oooh, now that’s a good idea. Thanks, cream cake.”

“Mean, Iwa-chan, Makki! And by the ways, your nicknames are soppy and gross.” They roll their eyes in unison. Matsukawa leans on the back of Iwaizumi’s wheelchair, casually resting his elbows on Iwaizumi’s shoulders.

“I’ll be sure to steer him in the right direction.” Hanamaki holds a hand over his heart and makes disgustingly admirable eyes at Matsukawa.

“This is why you’re my best friend.”

“Great minds think alike.” He salutes mockingly at Hanamaki as Oikawa scoffs under his breath, despite constantly snapping photos. 

“Yet the thoughts of fools rarely differ.” Iwaizumi cups his hand around his ear, as if straining to hear in Oikawa’s direction.

“Oh, what- What was that, Mr. English-Major? Was that _nerdism_ I detect?”

“Excuse you! These brains are a blessing, along with my good looks!” Synchronised gagging comes from his three best friends and Oikawa throws his hands into the air with a loud huff.

“Does nobody here appreciate me?! Mum! You love me, don’t you?” His mother looks over from the parent group with a disinterested flap of her hand, not even really looking in his direction.

“Whatever you say, sweetie.” Hanamaki, Matsukawa, and Iwaizumi burst into laughter, cackling as they centre towards Iwaizumi’s wheelchair to lean against. Hanamaki ends up in Iwaizumi’s lap, careful of his paralysed arm, which he flops over his own lap. Iwaizumi wraps his other arm around Hanamaki’s back to support him. Or rather, trap him in place.

“Quick, Matsukawa! Wheel us away! We can’t let him get in the car!”

“What?! Haji, no!”

“Roger that, captain!”

“Matsukawa, don’t-!” Hanamaki screeches between laughs as Matsukawa pushes the chair around the driveway and down the street towards the dead-end, staying on the pavement until they’re now on the opposite side of the road to the house. Oikawa has stayed where he was, filming them running the short distance with laughs and shouts of _“Oh my god, stop! Please stop! I have to go to college!”_

Iwaizumi unravels his arm and allows Hanamaki to gracefully slide off his lap back onto his feet. They cross the road sensibly, Hanamaki stopping in the middle of the road to ensure Iwaizumi and Matsukawa get across safely first. 

“Takahiro!” His father’s voice. Taking a quick deep breath, he jogs back to the car and picks up his suitcase once more. He loads his suitcase into the back seat, before turning back around with wet eyes. Iwaizumi smiles sadly, so proud of his boyfriend, and distraught to see him go. It’s precious time that he doesn’t have much left of, but he would never voice his thoughts of wanted Hanamaki to stay. 

“Go make me proud, Taka.”

“I will. I promise.”

“And- And remember your other promise?” He’s talking about the night beneath the stars, which feels like ages ago from this point. Hanamaki’s chest tightens, but he nods.

“Yes. I _will_ uphold it. If anything happens, call me.” The last part of his sentence, he directs to Matsukawa. The former middle blocker had taken a short course that specialised in care for the disabled, and with top marks of his class, had insisted on staying behind to look after Iwaizumi whilst Hanamaki and Oikawa were at college. He writes in his free time anyways, dedicating everything to writing what he hopes will be a successful first book. Neither Oikawa nor Hanamaki know what it entails yet, but he’s insistent that looking after Iwaizumi will help with his book instead of hinder the production.

“Best friends honour. I’ll call you if he even breathes the wrong way.”

“Matsukawa, don’t. Taka needs to focus on his course. Don’t give him unnecessary worry.”

“Sorry, Iwaizumi. Best friends honour is non-negotiable~.” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes as Hanamaki slips into the front seat of the car and rolls down the window. He leans out as far as he can with an outstretched hand, and Oikawa nudges Iwaizumi’s wheelchair closer so they can hold hands for just a little longer.

“I love you. Stay safe, give Matsukawa hell, run Oikawa over before he can leave, and stay in touch.”

“You have my word. And my heart. I love you so much.”

“Oi, I didn’t hear you agree to my terms~.” Iwaizumi’s good shoulder rises in a shrug, his lips twitching into a smirk.

“I’ll run Oikawa over, I’ll text you when I can, and Matsukawa will be helping me to the bathroom once my other side goes, so I’ll be sure to put him through some shit.” Hanamaki laughs, Matsukawa reaching over and flicking Iwaizumi’s forehead for both the comment _and_ the terrible pun.

“I’ll be dressing you too, so you’d better be nice to me.” The colour drains from Iwaizumi’s face and he looks at Hanamaki with a new sense of urgency.

“Please don’t leave me with him.” The car engine starts, and Matsukawa quickly pulls Iwaizumi out of the danger zone as Hanamaki lets his hand go.

“I’m sorry; he was the only option I could afford.”

“I’m doing this for free, you asshole!” Hanamaki clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, making finger-guns in Matsukawa’s direction and winking.

“Exactly. But seriously, Hajime. I know you’re in good hands. I love you.”

“I love you t-too.” It’s difficult to say goodbye. It’s difficult to _talk_. Iwaizumi can feel the muscles in his face twitching and he knows that for now, his time of coherent speech is over. At the very least, he got to tell Hanamaki he loved him, and made promises he would never break. As the car drives off, Hanamaki cups his hands over his mouth and hollers out the window.

“I’ll be back for the holidays! Wait for me, Haji!” There’s no way, Iwaizumi can respond, but he closes his eyes and smiles.

_“Yes. I’ll wait for you”_

Every single time there’s a holiday or a break, Hanamaki comes home. Not to his home, but to Iwaizumi’s. He’ll spend as long as he can there, joking and laughing and loving and cuddling. The cuddling aspect has started to get quite uncomfortable, as weight falls off Iwaizumi no matter how much he eats, and his bones are beginning to show through his skin. The once muscular athlete has been replaced by a skeletal shadow of his former self, but Hanamaki loves him all the same.

He’s not beautiful in the traditional sense of the word. Far from it. His skin is pale and flaky, his cheeks and half his face droop and dribble, he can barely move his bony limbs, and he’s almost constantly covered in food that he coughs up because he can’t swallow anything larger than baked beans. 

But he’s Iwaizumi. His eyes sparkle and glitter with determination and resilience, and half his face still splits into a bright beam when he’s happy. On good days, he can lift his right arm to stroke through Hanamaki’s hair, and speak a few sentences slowly but clearly. He’s beautiful in Hanamaki’s eyes, and in his heart. Sometimes he misses their arm-wrestling contests, or how Iwaizumi used to pick him up and spin him around, but Hanamaki compensates for that by being the one to pick _Iwaizumi_ up and spin him around. It’s worth every second for the way his eyes brighten with life and a distorted laugh breaks through his half-droopy mouth. 

It’s on such occasion, when Hanamaki is home for the holidays, that Iwaizumi is not having one of his better phrases. He keeps passing out, having seizures, and crying with pain at the incessant headaches that feel like his skull is collapsing in. Somehow, Hanamaki knows it’s time. He doesn’t go back to his own house for the nights, instead staying at Iwaizumi’s side, squashed onto a single bed and curled around each other. He barely sleeps. The only time he does is when Matsukawa orders him to get some rest, taking watch for a few hours with the promise of waking him if something happens.

It’s not healthy, but he knows what’s going to happen. It looms over them like a dark cloud, and Hanamaki can see Iwaizumi knows it too. He stops trying to force food down himself. He shakes his head no when it comes to shower time, only allowing cleanliness if it’s a bath with Hanamaki. He’s fighting for every second of his time with his boyfriend – with his _soulmate_ – because he knows there isn’t many seconds left. 

Oikawa and Matsukawa sense it too. They’re over every day, from sunrise to sunset, spending time with Iwaizumi to try and complete his bucket list in the few days that remain. He wins a race in Mario Kart against Matsukawa. He manages to beat Oikawa in a game of chess. They find a special company that modifies boats for wheelchairs, and take him around the lake for a good hour or three. But there are some things they can’t do.

His online physical therapist course remains only 83% complete. He doesn’t get to see Mt. Fuji from the bullet train. He never gets to see Godzilla on a cinema screen, never gets to go to Tokyo, never sees the nationals that year where Yahaba took the former team to the golden stadium. He doesn’t get to make a snow angle, and the most important thing at the top of his list – circled multiple times with blue pen – remains out of reach.

_“Marry Taka at Izumo Taisha.”_

Hanamaki swallows down a lump in his throat and blinks away tears every time he sees it, pinned to the fridge. It’s Friday evening when he finally takes the list down, because he knows. He _knows_. Iwaizumi hasn’t left bed all day. He’s barely been awake, and when he has, he’s only reached out for Hanamaki, weakly kissed his cheek, and drifted off again. 

Hanamaki wipes his eyes with his sleeves as he hiccups and sniffles, crumpling on the kitchen floor until Matsukawa appears in the doorway with a solemn face. He opens his arms, and Hanamaki stumbles into them blindly for a hug that comforts neither of them.

“Hanamaki... We’ll come by in the morning, okay...? Please, let him know- let him know we love him too.” Hanamaki nods and pulls away to dry his eyes, not sure they’ll remain dry for long. 

“Wh-Where’s Oikawa?” 

“He’s just saying goodbye a little longer. I think- I think Iwaizumi knows too.” Hanamaki’s heart seizes and he covers a hand over his mouth to stop a choked sob coming out. Minutes later, Oikawa walks in through the doorway, struggling to hold back his own tears. He wipes at his eyes which are red and wet. 

“Makki... He- He knows. He wants you.” Slowly, Hanamaki pulls himself out of his best friends hug and gives Oikawa a tight squeeze. They’ll be suffering too. Hanamaki is losing the person he loves, but Oikawa is losing his best friend since they were _seven_. Oikawa whimpers into the hold and gently shoves Hanamaki off.

“G-Go. I don’t know how much longer he’ll last.” Matsukawa and Oikawa leave together, comforting each other. They’ll probably be up all night and stay together all that time, grieving a friend they couldn’t save. Hanamaki heads up the stairs as he hears the front door close. Pausing at the door to Iwaizumi’s room, he tries to collect himself.

It’s time.

He enters, padding quietly over to the bed and changing into pyjamas before slipping in beside Iwaizumi. His chest rises and falls so slightly, it looks like it’s already stopped. Iwaizumi blinks one eye open, a haze of confusion covering it before he recognises Hanamaki and faintly smiles. Hanamaki pulls him in close, holding him tightly as more tears leak out. Iwaizumi’s lips press against his skin as best they can, and Hanamaki shuffles so that they can reach his lips. The more they share kisses, the weaker Iwaizumi gets. But he fights so hard, and for a moment, he regains strength. It still takes him a while to form words.

“Y- You know I wu-wo-love you, r-right...?”

“Y-Yes. You know I love you too?” Iwaizumi squeezes his hand gently and that’s all the answer Hanamaki needs. He reaches over to a packet of Haribo’s that Matsukawa must have left on the side, and picks out a gummy ring. Carefully, he works it onto Iwaizumi’s ring finger and holds it up for him to observe. Shakily, he kisses Iwaizumi’s hand.

“I know it- It’s not Izumo Taisha, but will you m-marry me?” The bright look on Iwaizumi’s face is full of strength and an estatic happiness.

“Y-Yes...” It’s only a matter of minutes later when their ‘ceremony’ ends, Iwaizumi falling back to sleep no matter how hard he tries to stay awake. Hanamaki starts to cry, because he can finally, _finally_ cross off the most important thing on Iwaizumi’s bucket list, accomplished just in time. He spends the next few hours whispering sweet things in his ear, about how loved he is by friends and family, how amazing their time together was, and how he hoped Iwaizumi would watch over them from the afterlife. He promised that one day, they would laugh together again, reunited by old age.

It’s midnight when Iwaizumi bolts up, reaching out for something Hanamaki can’t see with a gasp, then falls back to the mattress and jolts.

“Taka, help me, I’m falling!” He goes limp. His chest stops rising and falling. He stops struggling. Hanamaki squeezes his eyes shut, tries to pretend it’s just a nightmare, but then he breaks into a whimper, which develops into a wail as he cradles Iwaizumi’s lifeless body against his chest, rocking him slightly like he’s fragile and made of glass. Like he could break it into pieces and nothing would remain. The warmth slowly seeps from Iwaizumi, but Hanamaki continues to hold him close through the rest of the night and long into the morning. 

When Oikawa and Matsukawa come by at 11, Hanamaki has cried himself to a restless sleep and they gently wake him for one last goodbye before Iwaizumi’s body is collected to be sent to a coroner, and onto funeral directors. With one of their ‘barbershop quartet’ missing, it’s not the same, even as they cuddle up together with mountains of ice-cream that doesn’t get touched and movies that remain on the main menu. No amount of best friend therapy is enough for this, and Hanamaki knows only time and grieving will allow him to heal. 

He catches glimpse of the bucket list on the table where he left it last night as he goes through to get a drink, replenishing what he’s lost from mourning. It fills him with an emotion he can’t describe, a mix between forlorn and lost. There are so many unaccomplished dreams on that list. 

But at the very least, there’s something he _can_ do. He picks up the blue pen from the countertop. Taking the lid off, it hovers over the page until he finds the strength to draw a line through ‘Izumo Taisha’, and solidly colours in a tick next to ‘Marry Taka’. Lone tears trickle down his cheeks to dampen the collar of his shirt, and Hanamaki slowly caps the pen.

“Hanamaki?” Oikawa pops back into the kitchen, Matsukawa on his heels.

“What- What are you doing?”

“Last night... L-Last night, I put a Haribo ring on his finger. I asked him to m-marry me.” The two exchange glances, before looking back to Hanamaki for further information. A wobbly smile eases its way onto Hanamaki’s face, and he recalls their special word. He recalls their first words that they registered each other say. He remembers their many agreements and questions. The same word, from their first, to their shared last. He chuckles softly, and beams at Oikawa and Matsukawa with the edges of his eyes crinkled in happiness, despite the tears of sorrow that still drip down.

“He said yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> I would say I'm sorry... But I'm really not.
> 
> The whole "Only my religion will save my child" is something I've seen happen with a four year old at my church. She died last week from leukaemia.  
> There was nothing I could do because I wasn't related to her, even though she was like a baby sister to me.  
> If you are old enough and closely related enough to a child to authorise their treatment, please do it. Don't let another child become a victim of religion, no matter which religion it is.


End file.
